Page 2 of Carnal Magic
I burned to feel a stirring inside me. Goosebumps on my arms, or the prickling on my nape if a spirit was near. But even in one of the oldest cities in America with a rich spooky heritage, I’d never seen or felt anything that made me think I had any gift at all.
Mama and Keneesha told me to keep believing. Keep practicing. Keep learning. Eventually, I’d find my craft. I’d have that personal, moving, spiritual experience I ached to have.
Hopefully connecting with my long-lost ancestors would be the beginning of my personal magical journey.
“Miss Martha left you five hundred acres,” Mr. Woodward continued. “Most of what we locals call Redwine Mountain, though there is some acreage on the north side of the mountain that is owned by a mining company. Miss Martha’s mother, Katherine Redwine, sold that land in 1887, though the estate still receives substantial earnings from its share of mineral rights that she retained.”
Unfolding a thick paper, he chuckled softly. “Miss Katherine sure was a formidable businesswoman. Women couldn’t even vote back then, but she got the magistrate and sheriff to sign as witnesses on the contract. Rumor had it that Martha might have even been the judge’s daughter, though no one dared say that to Katherine’s face. She refused to do the deal unless the mining company agreed to never go deeper into her beloved mountain than three-hundred feet. Every three years, we still send auditors to the mines to make sure they’re abiding by the original agreement.”
He turned the paper around so I could see the handwritten contract written in Katherine Redwine’s own hand as far as I could tell. The bold strokes of the pen matched the heavy, proud signature of her name at the bottom. “Why only three-hundred feet?”
He shrugged and folded the paper back up. “I have no idea, honestly, but I suspect she was worried about the natural springs on the mountain being disturbed or fouled by mining.”
“Five hundred acres. That sounds like a lot of land to manage.”
“Oh, it pretty much manages itself. Most of the land is heavily wooded. It’s all fenced and posted against trespassers. You might see a few locals hunting deer every now and then, but mostly they respect the Redwines too much to encroach. The mine income more than covers the taxes and upkeep, and what started as a tidy little nest egg has grown to a substantial amount over the decades. There’s a small house on the property, more of a cabin, really, though it’s quite comfortable. Miss Martha arranged for continued maintenance to make sure it’s livable and ready for any of her descendants who might come home. When you called and set this appointment, I sent a cleaning team up to make sure it’s ready.”
I sat back, smiling softly. “I’d intended to ask about a motel, but yeah, I’d like to see where she lived.”
He smiled back. “Perfect. She’d be beyond thrilled to know that you’d come to see the family place.”
“Do I need a key…?”
Shaking his head, he laughed. “Not around here. No one locks their doors in the country. You’re welcome to take any of these documents or expense books that you’d like. Everything was scanned into our archives already, but I thought you’d get a kick out of seeing the originals.”
“I don’t think I need any of the documentation or old books, as long as you have them if we ever need it for some reason.”
“I’ll send this box back to the safe, then.” He put all the papers back into the box and then stood, taking the box to the door. “Amy’ll see it put away. Thanks, honey.”
The woman from the front desk took the box, and he quietly shut the door again. I gritted my teeth, fighting down the urge to say something about the casual, disrespectful way he referred to his secretary.
When he turned back to me, he noticed the look on my face and hurried to explain. “Amy’s my wife. We’ve been married twelve years now and have two children.”
Ah. At least he wasn’t a complete pig. “Oh, that’s nice.”
“We were high school sweethearts, and we’ve known each other all our lives.”
For a moment, he reminded me of a puppy dog, all wagging tail and bounding excitement. It probably should have been endearing, but quite honestly, it set my teeth on edge. At twenty-nine, I’d had my share of romantic attachments over the years, some quite lengthy and serious, at least on the surface.
But no one had ever really touched my core, the deepest part of myself. If I hadn’t loved Mama and Keneesha so much, I would have worried that maybe I had an attachment disorder. I liked sex well enough, so I wasn’t asexual. I just… It was…
I sighed, pushing the heavy sense of inadequacy away. My romantic life paralleled my magical life. Which was to say that I’d never had my world rocked off its axis before.
Mr. Woodward passed an envelope to me. “Here’s the information for the bank account, including checks and a business card if you’d like to call the banker, Roger Eddings, directly. He’ll be happy to get you a debit card or provide cash, whatever you need.”
I raised an eyebrow as I took the envelope. The banker’s direct line? “Does he take interest in all his account holders? I figured I’d just close out what’s left of the account before I went home.”
Mr. Woodward suddenly looked like he might throw up. Pale faced, he stared at me and licked his lips. “Uh, Miss Redwine, I’m terribly sorry if there’s been a misunderstanding, or if I didn’t convey the full impact of your inheritance… But if you demand a check from the Sweetbriar Bank, they’ll need some time to get those funds together. Banks don’t keep large amounts of cash on hand. It’s invested all over the county, state, even the country. I couldn’t even begin to guess how much time they’ll need to clear the funds.”
Everything he’d said so far about Martha indicated a quiet country life. A remote cabin, in the middle of nowhere. I’d assumed that meant she didn’t have a large sum of money at her disposal. “How much are we talking about?”
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bouncing nervously. “Roughly three million dollars.”
My eyes bulged. “Threemillion?”
“The login details are in the envelope if you want to check the account yourself. Miss Martha lived very simply, and for decades, all profits from the mining rights were invested rather than spent. Her daughter and your mother never claimed any of the money, or even visited the land.”
He leaned forward and tapped the envelope lying between us on his desk. “Quite honestly, Miss Redwine, if you withdraw the entire sum from our local bank, it won’t recover, and the town will likely go under within the year.”
